


Affairs to Be Handled

by Jevvica



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode s01e03 Commodities, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jevvica/pseuds/Jevvica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Porthos, and for d'Artagnan and Bonnaire, he had been playful.  Like it was fine, like he enjoyed sewing his friend back together.  Like this whole assignment had not been nightmarish.<br/>But he did not feel like playing anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affairs to Be Handled

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Missing scene from “Commodities” S1E3. That was a great episode.  
> I own very little and absolutely nothing related to The Musketeers.

* * *

 

Aramis sat on the floor, leaning against the small divan where Porthos lay, listening to him snore softly. Each rumbling breath was a reminder that he lived. Aramis was tired, but he could not sleep. As ridiculous as it sounded, part of him feared that if he ceased his vigil, Porthos would slip away.

He looked up in time to see Athos standing by the window outside. His exhaustion was swept away by fury and he rose to his feet to follow.

For Porthos, and for d'Artagnan and Bonnaire, he had been playful. Like it was fine, like he enjoyed sewing his friend back together. Like this whole assignment had not been nightmarish.

But he did not feel like playing anymore.

The night air was cool as he closed in on Athos.

“What were you thinking?”

“Aramis, I do not need...”

“You tell me what you were thinking when you were going to carry on to Paris as if nothing were the matter. As if I had not just told you Porthos would die if we tried.”

“Our orders were quite clear.”

“It was not for Bonnaire or our duty!” bellowed Aramis, his voice ringing over the empty grounds. “It was because of you! You and your damned past.” Aramis stalked away, only to surge back, dangerously close to Athos. He forced his voice into something calmer. “I do not know what happened. You never speak of it and I have never asked, but it commands you. It twists you into someone I do not recognize. Do you fear this place so much that you were willing to let our friend, our _brother_ , die in the back of a donkey cart?” Athos' eyes were flat, empty. Just as they had been when Aramis had grabbed his collar, demanding to know if he cared about Porthos.

A question Athos had never answered.

“You're right, Aramis. My past is damned. As am I.” Athos was usually steel and composure. To see him so broken, so lost. Aramis found his anger softening to sadness.

“We would bear it with you, whatever the weight. You know we would.”

“You cannot. I will handle my own affairs.” Athos turned away, looking out over the dark fields. It was a dismissal. Aramis looked through the window, at Pothos' sleeping form in the firelight. He studied Athos' back for a moment.

“I scarcely think you would even notice,” said Aramis softly, “given how you are already drowning in guilt and blame and darkness, but Athos, if Porthos had died? I never would have forgiven you.”

Aramis turned and walked away.

“Never.”


End file.
